


Call of the Void

by AislinnHays



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Daddy Issues, F/F, F/M, Mommy Issues, Titans x reader, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, possible relationships later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AislinnHays/pseuds/AislinnHays
Summary: How are the Titans going to handle the reluctant new stray Dick picked up and what exactly is she running from?
Kudos: 10





	1. Coffee Drops (CH.1)

Dick's been trying to get Rachel to come out of her shell for the past few months. Knowing about Rachel's struggle fitting in with her peers at school and the recent events surrounding her family, both biological and adopted, Dick deemed a routine would be best. It would be a way for Rachel to feel at ease, and comfortable. When Dick was initially adopted by Bruce back when he was young and struggling with his own family stress so to speak, he found that once he fell into an established pattern of behaviour, his mind would settle too. Thus a routine was swiftly established.

The day would begin with light training as a group and then a small rest, a bit more training and finally breakfast. During this early morning rest period, Garfield would head off to his room and play whatever game he was currently obsessed with. Lately, it was some platform based game, Dick even gave it a go once but never got invested, perhaps he was a bit too old for this sort of stuff, either way, gaming definitely wasn't for him. It wasn't for Rachel either. She tried playing with Garfield one morning but as soon as her character died; she left leaving Garfield and the console alone. Dick didn't like having Rachel alone for too long but he didn't want it to seem obvious and push her away. 

God knows what Jason does during his downtime, and judging by what was found on the batcomputer, Dick doesn't want to know. 

Thus birthed their new routine: every morning they'd head off to get coffee together, changing shops every couple days due to Dick's paranoia-fueled habits, Rachel is still a missing person after all. Dick began to enjoy these coffee trips with Rachel. He doubted he would ever have kids of his own, especially after Dawn and himself ended. He did enjoy this feeling though; being Rachel's confidant and support, her father-figure so to speak. He felt the same towards Garfield but not as intense as with Rachel. 

It was on one of these coffee trips that he noticed something strange. They were at a new coffee shop, the place had a retro yet Cool Kidz vibe to it, filled with guitars, records, and exclusively old looking wooden furniture abundant with those circle stains you only get if your coffee cup leaks a bit. 

"Got a triple venti mocha for Rochelle and a small coffee for Dirk" 

"Dick"

"Excuse me?" 

"Oh, uh... never mind." Dick grabbed the two drinks from the counter feeling a fair bit uncomfortable with the barrister's annoyed gaze directed at him. 

"Here", Dick said handing the mocha to Rachel.

"Nice." laughed Rachel before heading towards the sugars with Dick following close behind.

"So have you put any thought into our name?" asked Rachel taking a sip of her drink

"What do you mean?"

"Ugh," Rachel grunted placing her drink on the small counter. 

"Well, you, Hawk, Dawn, and Donna were the Titans," she reasoned reaching for the sugar jar and tilting the sweet crystals into her drink, "So, what are we? The New Titans? Titans 2.0?"

"Titans: The Next Generation?" Dick jokingly offered.

"You're not helping" dismissed Rachel as she finally placed the sugar back down.

"Look, Rach, it doesn't matter what you're called. It matter's what you do. We're training for whatever's next." he reassured her.

"There's never a shortage of people out there who wanna screw things up for the rest of us." he continued, "You know what they say, 'All it takes for evil to succeed-"

"-is good men and women to do nothing." Rachel interrupted after licking the stir and throwing it in the bin. She's heard the same speech from Dick countless times by now. It seemed as though this little motivational speech of his was more so for himself than anyone else. To convince himself that this wasn't for nothing; he wasn't chasing the shadow of his own past glory, but instead carving a new, brighter path for his current family.

"That's right." said Dick turning to leave, "Good men and women not doing nothing."

"You could put that on a t-shirt, Dick," Rachel muttered following after him.

"Maybe I should," Dick scoffed, reaching the door and holding it open for her.

Dick got caught for a minute in the doorway as a few others took the opportunity to slip through the generously opened door. After a few of those awkward smile things and some "you're welcomes" later, Dick finally got away from the door and headed towards Rachel. The car was a few meters away from the shop's entrance, parked beside a ‘50′ speed limit sign. Once Dick clicked the doors open Rachel immediately plonked herself down in the passenger's side spilling a bit of her mocha on the concrete below. Dick's eyes glanced at the drops splattering on the ground before taking a step towards the driver's side door. 

It took a second for his mind to process what his eye's caught, but when it did, Dick looked back down towards the coffee drops. Working as a detective for a number of years, Dick could easily pick out the small puddle of blood on the concrete. Dick ran over last nights news in his head, no shoot-outs or other violence that could explain how it got here. It definitely wasn't old, less than 12 hours judging by the still red pigment yet it wasn't fresh seeing as it wasn't disturbed by the early morning foot traffic meaning it had to of dried before rush hour. It happened last night. Looking around the area for anything that might help explain things, Dick noticed the blood on the signpost next to him. It was quite low down, a few smudges of blood on the pole resting near his knee. Bending down to have a closer look, Dick noticed the small groves; definitely a hand print.

"Dick?" called Rachel, leaning out of the now rolled down window.

"One minute, I'm just checking something."

Dick quickly gave a once over on the ground surrounding him, checking to see if there was some sort of trail hinting towards the injured person's route. 9 am on a weekday: the street was crowded. He could barely see the ground but even so, Dick thought he should at least see something, the start of a trail at least. They probably got into a car Dick concluded straightening up. 

'This is a busy enough street with a lot of businesses,' Dick reasoned with himself looking up towards the buildings CCTV cameras, 'a lot of them would have caught something.'

"Dick?" Rachel queried again.

"Coming," Dick said hopping into the car before pulling out onto the street.

"What were you looking at?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know yet, maybe nothing," Dick replied, "Maybe something, I'll double check when we get home."

Rachel rolled her eye's a bit at the "home" part but seemed satisfied nonetheless.

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Once they got back to the Tower, Dick and Rachel walked together towards the training room. Rachel was supposed to continue training with the others and Dick needed to pass by the training room to get to the computers.

"Fuck man!" shouted Jason. 

They're fighting again.

"You said don't hold back." defended Garfield.

"What were you fucking doing? I was fucking blindfolded" continued Jason.

"You said, 'Don't hold back.'" Garfield quoted rather annoyed as Rachel and Dick came round the corner. 

"Should I get the hose?" joked Rachel prancing over towards Gar.

"What's going on?" Dick asked the two.

"We did what you said, the blindfold thing, and then he went nuts on me." complained Jason. 

"He said 'Don't hold back.'" Gar quoted for the third time that minute.

"Then why do we even learn to fight like this, man?" Jason complained again.

Dick knew that Jason wasn't settling into the tower like the other two but unlike Garfield and Rachel, Jason was here to train. 

Jason didn't like the Titans tower, he thought it would be more intense like with Rachel's father but this assumption was quickly cut down. Training in some way or another every day and never actually going out and using what he learnt only caused his anger to boil with no escape for the steam except through his words. Verbally fighting and arguing at the slightest irritation was his only outlet so he did it every chance he got.

"Hey, it's idiotic." continued Jason heading closer to Dick, "We have eyes."

"In battle, anything can be taken from you." Dick addressed the group stepping forward. 

"You're hands," Dick accentuated this by twisting the fake sword from Jason's hand.

"You're feet..," Dick stabbed the training mat between Gar's feet.

"And you're eyes." Dick was now looking down the dull edge of the wooden sword towards Rachel's face. 

"No matter what is taken, you must be able to keep fighting." Dick lowered the sword and turned towards the other two, "And win. All right get changed, I'll be busy for a few hours so no attack scenarios this morning. Go have breakfast."

"Yo, look, it's been three months man," Jason said to Dick, "When do I get to go back to Gotham City?"

"Bruce doesn't think you're ready, and neither do I" Dick explained, "Look, man, you blew your privileges."

"What?"

"The Batmobile joyrides, the motorcycle on the staircase." Dick continued.

"I was practising my tactical manoeuvres." Jason tried to reason.

"And those websites you bookmarked? You know that's not what the batcomputer's used for."

The two argued back and forth before Dick tried a different approach.

"Okay, look, here's the thing," Dick began, "I could actually use some help with the others. They don't have the experience you have."

"Yeah. Yeah, for sure."

"Have you notice how they sort of look up to you? Follow your lead?" Dick asked,"When you're on point, they're on point. When you're not?"

"It's true" Jason smirked.

"They need your leadership, Jason... I'm not Robin anymore. You are." Dick patted Jason Shoulder as he began heading off towards the tech room. 

"Hey wait," called Jason, "If I'm Robin...Who are you?"

"That's a good question."

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	2. Discovery (CH.2)

Leaving the training area, Dick walked down the corridor towards the tech room. He might have quelled Jason's rampant mind but his own was still trying to make sense of what he saw that morning. It was a puzzle missing half the pieces, he had an idea of the picture: he knew someone was injured and he knew where they were at some point during the night, but how they were injured and where they went next was still a mystery.

Dick entered the room, not bothering to close the door behind him and, using Bruce's definitely illegal system, found three different CCTV camera's from last night all capturing the stained spot on the pavement giving him multiple views of the scene. Dick began watching the drunken night-life of San Francisco expecting to see perhaps a small fight between some drunks before a taxi was called to take them away to a nearby hospital. It was the most plausible explanation.

As Dick was watching the footage, Rachel and Gar came into the room.

"Is this about whatever was by the car earlier?" asked Rachel looking up at the footage.

"What?" Gar asked Rachel confused, "What was by the car?"

"Blood." Dick answered not once breaking his focus from the monitors.

"Blood?" asked a confused Gar, "What happened? Who's blood?"

"I don't know yet." replied Dick furrowing his brow as he watched the crowds of people thinning. 

The time stamp on the footage read 03:47:04, due to California's 2 am 'last call' law, only a few stragglers were still out as they waited for Taxis or swayed themselves home on foot. The untouched pavement was beginning to bother Dick, a feeling like when a horror movie goes silent before a cheap jumpscare leaving the audience aware of an imminent fright but the specifics of said 'fright' remain unknown. He was waiting for the scare and every second the silence extended pushed him further to the edge of his seat.

"A bit of blood on a street doesn't really concern us," Jason commented as he sluggishly moved into the now crowded room cradling a bowl of cinnamon puffs to his chest.

"I never said it did, Jason." Dick replied, looking at him over his shoulder, "I'm only satisfying my own curiosity."

"Uh guys," Gar interrupted, gesturing towards the screen.

Turning back towards the monitors' Dick saw the figure on the ground, right where the stain was due to appear. The time was stamped at 04:07:08. By this time the streets were emptied leaving the slouched figure undisturbed.

"They just appeared." chimed Rachel.

"What do you mean?" Dick asked staring at the figure. 

The cameras weren't the best, extremely glitchy and unfocused not to mention the person's head was facing away from all three cameras. Despite this, Dick could clearly tell this person was in pain; if them on their hands and knees weren't enough, tomorrows bloodstain would be.

"Like, out of thin air." Gar explained a bit too excitedly, "One second nothing then poof! Someones there."

"Shit, really?" Jason asked eagerly, everything's been stagnant since he got to the tower and if what Gar said was true, something interesting is finally happening and he'd be damned if he wasn't involved.

Dick, was watching the figure as though they'd vanish if he lost concentration, the talking of the kids became white noise as more questions plagued his mind. He only checked the CCTV to fill in some missing pieces to the puzzle he gave himself, albeit he did get some new pieces; he found out the puzzle was much bigger than initially thought. He was looking over the footage for anything that may give him a few more pieces. Their clothes looked comfortable, although a bit too cold to wear outside. A pair of white shorts with a loose t-shirt, untamed hair, and no shoes. It wasn't the absence of footwear that raised the red flags in Dick's mind, but the blood coating them which he mistook for socks at first glance.

It took about 20 seconds for the figure to move from their curled position. They reached backwards with one hand as the other stayed planted in front of them, hand sliding in the small puddle near their feet as they pattered around in search of something before hitting and grasping the pole in an attempt to steady and lift themself up into a more kneeled position. They looked around themself frantically for a while reminding Dick of a meerkat searching for predators. As they leant on the pole, they finally faced one of the cameras briefly, barely a second but Dick caught it. Dick had seen that same look on so many others; she was running from someone, a one-track mind to get away, but from what? Despite the grainy quality, Dick guessed they had to be around Jason's age. His mind was immediately drawn back to Rachel when they first met, back when he tried to distance himself from helping thus invertedly leaving her defenceless to those chasing her. Maybe it's due to his hero complex, but he really couldn't resist a stray, especially a scared one.

"What the fuck's wrong with her legs?" Jason blurted out, finally getting a better look at the feet. 

Rachel, Gar, and Jason were now standing right by Dick at the computers all waiting to see what the injured stranger would do next. About a minute after she appeared, she stopped looking around, another few seconds and she disappeared. No smoke, no magical sparks: just gone. It was silent for a bit in the room as they all tried to process what they just witnessed. Dick began checking the other cameras in the area to see if he could find her again. The screens were filled with multiple different views of the general area, a few minutes of silence and searching eyes and Rachel finally spotted her.

"There!" she shouted pointing to a screen showing a figure half lying on a dumpster barely holding themself up, the camera only just catching her half down an alleyway nearly 20 meters from the initial appearance spot. The girl followed the same pattern of behaviour as before: a mini rest before looking around and disappearing once again. 

Dick was determined to find out where they turned up so as soon as she disappeared he brought up more CCTV footage. This time around he didn't find her as easily, and it took him close to an hour to find her again. Although it was an hour for him, only a few minutes past in the footage. She was obviously trying to avoid the cameras and Dick had to rely on her slip-ups to catch her. The girl was moving sporadically and would often cross her own path, he wasn't sure if it was a tactic to lose whoever she was running from or if she really had no idea where she was going. While Dick stayed in the room searching the cities cameras, the younger three, with admittedly much shorter attention spans, would cycle in and out of the place, at one point Dick ordered them to go back to training. By the time the footage was nearing 6 am, Dick had spent the entire day in front of the computers and, to his relief, it seemed to of paid off. 

The last sighting of her was near the pier close to the warehouses and if he was lucky she'd still be in one of them. Judging by her clear exhaustion, it was plausible she hadn't moved yet. Checking the time on his watch, Dick noted that the sun had long since set as it neared 10 pm. He'd spent over 12 hours searching, he'd be damned to allow his efforts to result in nothing. Dick swiftly left the room and headed to the exit passing the team in the living area as he did so.

"I'll be back." he told the three as the elevator doors closed behind him.

"Guess he found her then" muttered Gar staring at the closed door.

"Guess so" replied Rachel.

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Once Dick got to the pier he realised just how hard it would be to find her. There had to be hundreds of different hiding spots in multiple different buildings, the search could take all night. Thankfully the workers had gone home by this point but it wasn't them he was really worried about but whoever she was running from. He did a survey of the area before entering any of the buildings, checking if she was hiding outside or if someone else was here also. Satisfied that no one was outside, Dick pulled his hood up to avoid any cameras and entered the first building that night. 

He checked every nook and cranny of the first few buildings looking for any blood or even a body, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure he was still alone. The fourth warehouse was where he struck gold. He found a few more drops of blood, a lot less than at the coffee shop but blood none-the-less. Natural he thought she might of disappeared again but after the neighbouring buildings proved fruitless, he returned. There were no upper or lower floors and he already upturned everything inside yet this was his only lead. The roof had poles and infrastructure to hold it up but nothing big enough to hide a person and everything else inside was either too small or locked tight. 

Heat signatures. He should've checked for heat signatures. He couldn't access it from the warehouse and he definitely wasn't going to head back to the tower to use it so he grabbed his phone and began dialling Gar. Once he picked up, Dick got him to check for any heat signatures near him, he'd been teaching the group on how to use the system in case of situations like this thus it only took Gar a few minutes before Dick got the picture of the warehouse. There was someone in here with him. 

Dick walked towards the other person, double-checking the image before he stood still. In front of him were sealed storage containers. He already searched this area and found nothing, the locks on the storage containers were old and rusted shut, definitely not used this year let alone this morning, and yet the orange dot said otherwise. Then again, it would make sense if she could teleport through it. Dick looked around searching for something to help get it open, finding nothing he realised he had to rely on his strength alone. A few harsh kicks to the lock and he got it open. Grabbing the handles of the container, Dick wrenched the doors open filling the warehouse with a metallic screech. He found her.

As Dick looked at her curled figure a wave of worry overcame him, what if he was too late? Stepping into the container and kneeling next to her figure, he searched for a pulse. Only after finding one, albeit weak, did he take a moment to look at her: y/h/c hair, y/s/c skin, and bar her feet, healthy-looking. The CCTV gave him an idea of her injury but looking at her now, he realised how serious it was. She was leaving small puddles of blood all over the city and the fact she hadn't passed out sooner was a miracle. The bottom of her t-shirt was ripped and wrapped around both her feet standing in for a bandage, it was tight enough to stop the bleeding. The once light grey shirt was now died a deep red, slighting brown at places due it drying. If she hadn't done this before passing out, there was no doubt she'd be dead now. The body can only take so much blood loss before permanently shutting down, she wasn't dead but she was close to it. He scooped her up as carefully as he could and slowly made his way out of the building. 

The strange girl lay limp in Dick's arms, undisturbed as she was slightly swayed with his every step. Reaching his car, Dick slowly lowered her to lie down in the back not dissimilar to a parent lowering their sleeping child into their bed. As he straightened up, he took one last look at her before rolling up his jacket and propping it under her calves in order to take the pressure off her feet. Sliding into the drivers' side, he glanced once more at her still face in the rearview mirror and turned on the engine.

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Once Dick arrived at the Tower he delicately picked the girl up and headed inside. Gar was pacing back and forth near the elevator door when Dick stepped out cradling the unconscious stranger.

"Dick!," he shouted once he noticed him enter, "You found her, what- wait is she okay?"

"Hopefully," Dick replied stepping past him and towards the med bay, "Grab my jacket, I left it in the car."

"Going," Gar said before disappearing inside the elevator.

Once he made it to the med bay, he placed her stomach down onto one of the beds, tilting her head to the side, and began rooting through the cupboards and drawers. He took out some antiseptic and bandages and placed them near the bed. Quickly washing and drying his hands, Dick pulled a chair next to the foot of the bed and began carefully unwrapping the dirty cloth filling the room with the strong scent of iron. Once he removed the fabric from her left foot he took note of the deep, yet disturbingly precise slice along the back of her heel, taking some antiseptic, he began cleaning the wound. Dick could see deep into her foot, and what caught his attention was the pale tendon cut clean in half and her still intact artery. Whoever did this had medical training. As he was finishing bandaging up the first wound, Gar came in with Dick's Jacket. 

"Put it on the counter," Dick told him before Gar could say anything, "And go grab two black foot braces from the closet behind you." 

As he finished wrapping up her first foot, Gar placed the braces onto an empty spot on the bed. Hovering near Dick, Gar remained silent trying his best not to disturb him. He was use to helping The Chief back at the Manor and thus instinctively fell back into the silent helper role, ready to do what the doctor asked. Gar's eyes flickered between the girl's unconscious face and the way Dick meticulously worked on bandaging up her ankles. He noticed the neatness of the wound and was certain it was expertly done, but by who and why? As Dick was working away securing the final brace, Gar headed towards the Vital Sign Monitor in the corner of the room and began getting it ready. 

"You know how to do that?" Dick asked him.

"Yeah," Gar answered, "I've done it hundreds of times."

Dick stood up and flipped the girl onto her back conscious of her feet as he did so, before heading to another cupboard and getting some spare blankets. 

"Hook her up," Dick said gesturing to the machine, "And put a few more blankets on her, she's lost a lot of blood so she needs to be kept warm."

"Got it," Gar said wheeling the monitor closer to her.

"I'm going to make a call," continued Dick, "See if we can get her a surgeon to re-attach the tendons." 

Gar nodded in acknowledgement as he placed the finger probe on her index finger, his eye's glued to the monitor making sure it was working. Grabbing the phone from out of his pocket, Dick left the room and walked out into the hallway already dialling the number of a surgeon that he's relied on before. Gar continued setting up the machine, double and triple-checking making sure everything was working correctly. Once it was all set up, Gar repositioned the girl, making sure the pressure was off her feat. As he was pulled the blanket over her body he took note of the orange stain the antiseptic left on the bandages and the pungent distinct smell it had that filled the air, he reached out towards the spare blankets Dick took out and layered her up. Gar wasn't the best at looking after patients but he wasn't a complete stranger to it. He looked around the room for a bit and found a few foldable wheelchairs in an attached storage room. Taking one out, he began opening it up, in case she might not know how, and wheeled in near the head of the bed in case she woke up. 

Gar felt extremely bad for the girl, he remembered her scared face on the CCTV cameras and now, seeing her in person, he only felt more sympathy. There was something inherently disturbing in deliberately taking away someones ability to walk. Something dehumanizing and upsetting. He remembered The Chief and how adamant he was on being able to walk. Sitting on the chair where Dick was previously, he gazed at the girl's face and began reminiscing his past, he thought of his family, his biological, his old ones at the manor, and his new one here in the Tower. He wondered what everyone was doing, what his life would be like if his mum and dad chose to live somewhere else, and he wondered what his new 'Titans' family would lead to. His mind was drawn back to the girl at this point, and he wondered what her family was like, where they were, and if they loved her. Gar sat there for the next twenty minutes thinking about families and all the meanings that word held.

When Dick came into the room holding a pile of clothes, Gar's concentration broke. Dick walked over to the bedside table and placed the pile down before turning to look at Gar taking in the reminiscent look on his face.

"A few people are coming over tomorrow to help her out," Dick told him walking around the bed towards him, "a quick surgery to re-connect the tendons. She'll be fine." Dick placed a hand on Gar's shoulder and giving him a reassuring smile continued, "I'm glad you were here to help, I really appreciate it. Now, get to sleep, it's late and you still have training tomorrow." he finished nodding towards the door.

Dick watched Gar leave the room before sitting down and looking at the sleeping figure. He assumed she was an adult, albeit on the young side, and he didn't want to force her into anything, but, on the other hand, she was a meta-human, and people were definitely looking for her. In his experience, nothing good happens when someone with powers falls into the wrong hands. Hopefully, she'll choose to stay here, but if she doesn't... he doesn't know what he'll do. Looking at the Vital Signs Monitor one last time, Dick stood up and headed towards the door. He might as well get a few hours sleep, she won't be waking up anytime soon. 

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	3. Under Water (CH.3)

Dick's mind was plaguing him all night, there was simply too many unanswered questions running through his mind. His decision not to invade her privacy in order to allow trust to build naturally seemed more and more unnecessary. He could just not tell her. Allow her to believe he was clueless, however, if he slipped up and said something he shouldn't know, any hope of trust between them would be gone. He spent hours in bed jumping from thought to thought, planning out every interaction or conversation he might have with her. Being a detective meant he had an arsenal of interrogation techniques at his disposal, it also meant he knew that building trust was the most important step in getting someone to open up. He had almost five hours before the surgeon arrived yet he decided to get out of bed and set up the medical room anyway. Get it out of the way. 

By the time the room was set up for the surgery, only an hour had passed. The voice in his head was still telling him to just search her up, that he was a detective for god sakes, he knew how to pretend he didn't know stuff. Looking around the room one final time, Dick left and headed next door where the girl was. Standing at the doorway and looking in at the unconscious stranger hooked up to the beeping machine, Dick was overcome with a strange sense of guilt. He knew he wasn't to blame in the slightest and yet, the feeling rested heavily on him. Perhaps invading her privacy would be a good idea, after all, if he knew more about her then he'd be better at protecting her and convincing her to stay. Looking at the girl again, Dick turned and headed to the computer room. She won't be upset about something she doesn't know about.

Using Bruce's system, Dick began a facial recognition. He was only going to find out the basics, he wasn't going to pry and he wasn't going to judge he reasoned with himself as he input her image into the facial recognition. Once the loading bar hit 100%, Dick leaned in, watching as the girls face and personal information filled the screens. Y/F/N Y/L/N, aged only Y/A. There was nothing odd about her at all. They had two parents, both of which living out of the country, no criminal record to speak of, and she graduated from an ordinary high school last year with slightly above average grades. 

Unsatisfied, Dick began to dig deeper. She was a freelance writer since she was 16, mainly writing online articles or even college essays for clients, getting her jobs off of some generic freelance website, being paid between $30 - $200 depending on the job. The only hint of an oddity was the gap in her living situation. She lived with her parents, was taken off of the household registry and then appeared six months later in San Francisco renting a small loft. Then again, the gap is easily explainable, she was still taking jobs at the time so it was most likely she was living with a friend, just not officially. 

If Dick didn't see those CCTV cameras then he would have just assumed she was an ordinary girl. Nothing special, nothing to raise an eyebrow, just an average person doing average things. Then again, Rachel seems normal if you only look at her documents. He was pulled out of his thoughts as he caught the time, 05:00. The surgeon was due to arrive at any moment. Shutting the system down, Dick turned to leave only to be greeted with the sight of a curious Jason leaning on the door. Dick guessed he was probably there for a while.

"Anything interesting?" Jason asked.

"No," Dick replied slipping past him and down the hall, "Everything's just... normal." 

"Who was she running from then?" Jason shouted after Dick.

"Haven't a clue."

As Dick entered the common area, the buzzer went off. They were here. The surgeon stepped out of the elevator and handed Dick her bag. 

"Boy wonder, it's been a while." came the woman with a thick German accent, "Who's hurt this time?"

"Not one of us, surprisingly," Dick smiled warmly at his old friend letting go of her hand, "I found her last night, I told you about her injury over the phone."

The surgeon, Dr Kindler, was an elderly woman with a chubby build, sharp features, and a stoic face. Dick's known her for years, she'd always show up when Bruce or himself needed some help without raising any concerns at the hospital, in fact, Dick often thought of her as his grandma, not that he'd ever tell her. Bruce gave her an extremely generous paycheck on the 1st of every month, even if she wasn't needed, she still got paid. She had to be reaching her late 70s by now yet her sharp tongue and steady hands stayed as constant as ever.

"Where is she then?" she asked waving her hand a 'hurry up' motion.

Dick began leading her towards the medical room where he set up an area suitable for her to work. Dick held the door open as she glided past him towards the only occupied bed in the room. Looking at the girl's feet, she asked Dick if she had any other injuries, receiving a 'no' in return she motioned for her bag. The bag was a musty brown leather in the style Dick only ever saw in old movies like Mary Poppins. There were many similarities between Mary Poppins' bag and Dr Kindler's, mainly as both appeared bottomless. Grabbing her bag, Dr Kindler took out a metal tray and small , individually wrapped, surgical tools. She told Dick to bring the girl into the prepared area, before getting herself ready with the equipment and gear. Dick wheeled the bed into the room next door and slowly placed her onto the surgery table. He took the braces off her just as Kindler came in holding her tray of tools. 

"Close the door behind you", she told Dick as she walked over to the girl and set the tray down. 

Dick nodded as he walked out with the braces in hand. Closing the door behind him, he walked across to the medical room and placed the braces on the counter. The younger ones should be heading to training soon.

Gar, Rachel, and Jason wandered into the training room at half five greeting Dick good morning. Once all three of them arrived, Dick laid out the days training routine. Although the three were a bit disgruntled about the repetitiousness of everything, Dick insisted they carried on exactly as they were as the goal was to ingrain the moves into muscle memory and the only way to do that is by repeating the same things over and over again. He stayed and trained with the trio for two hours before the group split up all heading to their rooms for a much-earned break. Dick grabbed his coat and headed to the room where Dr Kindler and her patient were. He stood at the viewing window as he watched as Kindler stitch up one of Y/N's ankles. 

As Kindler began cutting through the bandages on her other foot, Rachel came over and stood beside Dick. It was quite for a few minutes as they watched Kindler deposit the bandages in a small pedal bin. Dick took a few steps down the hall and looked towards Rachel.

"Ready to get our coffee?" he asked her.

"Ready."

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Two days ago, Y/N's POV

There's something about showers that I can't quite explain, the warmth of the water washing over you coupled with the steam clouding your vision and fogging up the mirrors, it's like every sin is washed away with the dirt of the day and all the shame and loneliness is hidden inside the steamed up mirror. They say that the longer your showers are, the lonelier you are. It's because it's supposed to be like a hug, the warmth of steam replacing that of another's flesh. That may be true for some but not for me. I could stay in the shower for hours, and have on some occasions, but cuddling with someone and sharing your warmth is just... uncomfortable. Everyone has a different body temperature and when you're with someone else with a higher body temperature then you: it's hell. You start heating up and sweating but if you move it's a bit awkward especially if they're enjoying themself, and so, you just stay there... giving up your comfort for theirs. A shower isn't like that, a shower is much warmer than you but any sweat is washed away before it can even fully form and any movement inside the shower goes unnoticed. Then again, the human instinct to socialise is ingrained in our DNA and impossible to ignore once the shower turns off. 

I broke up with my ex-girlfriend, Adria, a few months back. She wasn't the love of my life by any means and neither was I to hers. I started freelance writing when I was 16, a friend showed me this website that would hire people to write stuff or transcribe videos and audio files in exchange for money. What teenager turns away money? So I started writing, as my reference sheet grew longer, I was able to take higher paid jobs. I even once helped ghostwrite a series of children stories with a few other "ghosts" online. After a while it had become a legitimate, mostly stable, job. That's how I met Adria. She's a 40-year old artist living in San Francisco, and to a scarcely 18-year-old girl, she was hella cool. She put a posting up looking for someone to write small descriptions for her art pieces in a gallery coming up, she moved to the U.S from Italy a few months back and her English was a bit dodgy in places. By this point, I had a long resume which included a few art appreciation articles I wrote for a previous client. I applied and two days later and I got the job. 

I was living with my mum and dad at the time, and although they were never physically abusive, they were very neglectful and harsh verbally. I think they had me because that was what you were supposed to do in those days; get married and have a kid, and so they did. They're the kind of people who are always right, even when they're not. Aggressiveness was their only reaction to criticism so any conversation with them was like balancing on a tightrope, sometimes I'd slip up and face the harshness of the fall, other times it would be fine. I'd try and reach out sometimes, seek advice or something, but their dismissive nature was a great deterrent. I don't think they loved me or even each other, they just said they did. 'I love you's' were exchanged as easily as 'hello's. What's worse is that I'm bi; I don't only have daddy issues but mommy issues as well. 

It's probably why the middle-aged Italian was so alluring. In order to write the descriptions for her pieces, we would talk online, she'd talk about her work so passionately and I would be taking notes. Our talks would usually end off-topic, the conversation gradually flowing into personal life, interests, and preferences. The poet Charles Bukowski once said that "flesh searches for more than flesh" and I believed that was exactly what my own flesh was doing, searching for not only flesh but a soul that could touch my own. As her exhibition crept closer, so did we. When it finally came time she invited me out to the exhibition, promising a plane ticket and a place to stay for a few nights. A week later I was on the plane. 

A few days turned into a few weeks and before long, we had lived together for almost seven months before I moved out having enough saved up to make the deposit on the small loft I'm in now. I thought I had found more than flesh in her but she only found flesh in me. It was more of a sugar baby and sugar mommy relationship then a real one, so I just left. I'm thankful for the footing she gave me in life but she and I just don't belong together and I'm okay with that. It's been two months since we broke up and I'm still hung up on it. Turning the shower off, I reach for the towel and dry off. I have a deadline due in a few days and although mostly done, I still have to edit it. Throwing the towel in the clothes hamper I pull on my underwear, a pair of loose-fitting white shorts and a grey t-shirt, I'm not leaving the house today so this outfit is more than enough. Grabbing my laptop I place it on the coffee table before turning on the kettle. 

Plonking down on the sofa, tea in hand, I turn on the television, it was some news report on Superman's recent heroic deed. I remember when I was a kid and playing superheroes and villains on the playground, a group of 3-foot tall screaming kids chasing the poor soul who was playing the bad guy that day. I always wanted to become a superhero so when I found out I actually had powers I was ecstatic. I wasn't dumb though, I watched all the cartoon superhero shows and one rule they all had in common was to never reveal your true identity. So I didn't... kind of; I showed a few people when I was a kid. I'm sure they probably just dismiss the memory of it as childhood imagination, we were all under ten anyways. Back then I thought it was so cool, but now, not so much. 

It feels as though I'm submerging myself in a warm bath, closing my eyes shut as I slip under, before opening them up underwater. The whole world stops as if frozen in time and objects and people lose whatever mass they once held allowing me to pass through them like they were nothing but fog. In this moment of frozen time, only I exist, only I am able to move. I don't teleport, I just walk to wherever I want to be and when I resurface, I'm there. As I grew older, a voice began to accompany me in the water, it was like it was calling to me, speaking softly in my ear in a language so ethereal and, unfortunately, incomprehensible. The older I got, the stronger its whispers grew, the more forceful they became, and the more maddening their effect was. The whole 'become a superhero' thing was quickly dismissed. It was like a shadow in at the end of the bed. You can turn on the light and be rid of it, but once the dark returns, as it inevitably does, it'll be back to haunt you once more. Besides, superheroes are shit.

If I focus I can bring things with me, usually a backpack and whatever I'm wearing, but if I let go of it, it loses its mass and becomes fog like everything else, and I can no longer pick it up. Once I come out, whatever I dropped in the water stays there, it never comes back out, always existing, but never able to leave. Whenever I stay in the water too long, the maddening voice demands my focus on it and nothing else. If I stay too long in the water, I'll lose myself completely, and just like my hello kitty pencil case back in middle school, I'll be lost to the void forever. 

Now, a few weeks away from 19, and the voice is growing stronger. Its voice has slipped through the void and into the world with me. It's not constant, only when I'm under some form of pressure does it surface, as if it senses my distress, the darkness creeping in, and begins whispering in my ear, sometimes so loud it blocks everything else out. It's like its calling out to me, reminding me I can just slip back under the water where it's safe. I don't know if I'm a coward because I stay here or because I refuse to stay with the voice for longer then a few minutes, too scared to give up life. I'm pulled out of my thoughts when a sharp pain hits the side of my neck, within seconds everything turns black.

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Everything hurts. I'm cold, my tongue feels like I've been licking sandpaper, and I'm in so much pain. Whatever harsh light is glaring down on me keeps my eyes screwed shut, even with them closed I can still feel my pupils shrinking painfully in an attempt to hide from their assaulter. My body feels stiff and a pulsing pain comes from one of my feet, so much so I might puke if it continues for any longer. I'm savagely pulled out of my half-sleep state when hands delicately grasp my foot and a pain so sudden and blindingly sharp tears through my being. I let out a scream so loud it could have been mistaken for that of the Banshee herself. I quickly notice that no matter how hard I struggled to get away from my assaulter, I could scarcely move. I was wrapped to the cold metal with binds so tight I'm sure it was restricting blood flow. The reassuring whispers of the unknown entity filled the air once more as my head is quickly grasped and tilted to the side. On instinct, I dove back into the water before things could progress further.

The frantic whispers surrounded me in the massless void. I didn't have time to properly check my injuries, I had to get somewhere safe first. Dragging myself off of the table and through a wall, a nearby window revealed where I was, still in San Francisco, close to the top in one of the skyrises. I had a long climb down to go. Every few minutes I had to tuck myself into a small hidden space and reappear, I'd catch my breath and try to calm myself down, before submerging to crawl another few meters. By some miracle, I managed to get out of the place without being caught. Crawling down the street, cutting through buildings and greenery in order to get home quicker, only reappearing when the creature's voice grew disturbingly alluring. I tried to only appear in camera blind spots, only slipping up once in a while and having to expose myself in the middle of a street or even inside a few buildings. Halfway home, and light-headed due to blood loss, I realised that whoever these people were, they took me from my place; they know where I live, it wasn't safe there. I dragged myself around the city for a while, paranoid and looking over my shoulder constantly before I wondered to the pier. There weren't any cameras nearby and I knew I wasn't going to stay conscious for long so thinking quickly, I decided it would do.

Crawling into a random warehouse I reappeared briefly before noticing the rusting storage containers littering the place. There were hundreds of them and many of them had a large chain around the doors, a few so rusted the keyhole to the padlocks was rusted over. Disappearing once again I poked my head inside a few containers before coming across a mainly empty one, with a rusted chain sealing the thing shut. Crawling inside, I sat against the tin walls and finally looked down at my feet. 

A large gash on both heels like something out of a slasher film. I felt like I was going to be sick as I looked at the injury, seeing inside my own foot. Everything was red except the two pale bunched up rope-like things inside. It doesn't take a genius to realise it was a tendon especially as any movement in my feet was cut off, literally. The blood flow had already slowed but there was still so much oozing out. Panicking, I looked around tonight's accommodation for anything to help stop the bleeding only to be met with nothing. Grabbing the bottom of my shirt I ripped it a few times and began tying it around my heels as best and as tight as I could. My world was slowly filling with black spots and the cold of the steel on my exposed legs and midsection only served to make me even weaker, so I gave up. I laid down on the cold tin, curled up to preserve any body heat I had left, and slipped into sweet unconsciousness, it was literally like sleep to the freezing.

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Present Day, Training Room in Titans Tower

Jason was practising with the blindfold and wooden sword as Rachel watched on amused. He was swinging the thing around exactly as Dick had taught, as much as Jason loved to complain, he never missed training. Gar walked into the room with a box of Cheezits and a Gatorade for Rach and himself, hearing someone enter, Jason straightened up and removed his blindfold as Gar handed her the snacks before sitting down on one of the many benches. It was the second training period of the day, and Rachel had just come back from getting coffee with Dick. She explained to the group that Dick was checking in with the doctor and would probably be busy for a while. 

"What's wrong with her anyway," asked Jason, "I mean besides the being unconscious stuff"

"It's her ankles," Gar explained, "Someone severed her tendons, professionally done too."

"So she can't walk?" Jason deadpanned asked, "She can teleport for fucks sakes, she doesn't need too. Whoever cut them mustn't have known too much about her."

"Look," Rachel said, "Whoever she is, she needs our help. If the people chasing her didn't know about her powers when they took her, then they know she has them now. Dick helped me when I needed him, it's only right we do it for her."

"We don't even know if we can trust her," Jason explained putting the wooden sword on the rack, "Hell, we don't even know what the fuck she is."

"What she is is a person who needs help," Rachel explained.

"I gotta agree with Rachel," Gar stated, "You should have seen her when Dick brought her in. She would've died if he didn't find her."

"Maybe there's a reason people were after her in the first place," Jason said sitting across from the two, "She's obviously some kind of metahuman, she's probably dangerous."

"No offence Jason," Rachel countered, "But I doubt teleportation is as dangerous as you think it is. She's just moving from one place to another, it's not as if she's turning people inside out."

"Look, my vote is we kick her ass out" Jason responded.

"Who says we even get a vote?" Gar intersected.

"Who says she even wants to stay?" Rachel questioned disappointed in the guys in front of her, "Look it's hard to believe, but maybe her idea of paradise isn't sharing a bathroom with you, Jason."

"She has a place to go to," Jason explained slightly worked up, "Dick looked her up, she has a job and everything, she doesn't need to stay here. I say bandage her up and kick her out."

"Even if she does she can hardly go back to it now," Rachel said, "People were after her Jason, you saw the CCTV. If you know where she lives then they probably know too."

"Fine," Jason gave in, "But if she turns out to be some crazy monster chick, I'm not helping."

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Outside Surgery Room

Dick stood outside the room watching through the viewing window as Dr Kindler was wrapping up the final part of the girl's cast, her other foot already wrapped up. Dick was thinking to himself about how the girl was going to react after waking up and find herself in a pair of grey casts reaching from her foot to mid-calf. How she was going to react to the place and the team in general. Looking up from her completed work, Dr Kindler turned to the viewing window and beckoned Dick to join her.

Coming into the room Dr Kindler asked him to wheel her off the table and back into the bed in the other room. Following behind him, she explained the girl's state, confirming that it was a precise cut and whoever did it, had some form of medical training. Pulling the blanket over Y/N's sleeping figure, Dick asked about any long time disabilities or if it was possible for a full recovery.

"A full recovery is on the table," Kindler explained as she began hooking the girl up to some IV drips and other sorts. "She's been given the best treatment by the best doctor around, and besides, she's young. Younger ones tend to pop back up a lot more then you'd think. There's is a chance things might not heal properly but like I said, she's had the best doctor."

"How long will that be?" Dick asked watching Kindler begin writing in her notebook.

"You've never been patient, you know that?" Kindler reprimanded, "I gave her a small dose of general anaesthesia, she doesn't seem to be in a coma so I'd say once the anaesthesia wears off in a few hours, she should be waking up. After that, the cast will stay on for a week while she takes oxycodone and acetaminophen, I'm writing the dosage now, once this cast is off she'll be in an aircast and begin putting light pressure on the feet, no walking just light pressure, two weeks in that and she can do light exercise without them. In total, about a month and a half for a full recovery, you rush it, it'll be longer. Here." 

Dr Kindler ripped the page of the notebook she was writing on out and handed it to Dick. The piece of paper outlined Y/N's recovery, from the dosage to suggested activities, Dr Kindler outlined every small detail. Looking up from the paper, Dick realised Dr Kindler had finished packing her bag and began to move past him. Dick accompanied her out of the building and into her car, making small talk along the way and giving her car a wave as it drove off. Dick headed back up, the group should be in the training room and he needed to make a start on breakfast.

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It was reaching 8 pm and Y/N still hadn't woken up. Dick sat alone in the computer room, checking the CCTV cameras from the other night for any signs of the chaser, whilst the live video of the medical bay was playing in the corner, Dick wanted to be able to talk to her quickly after she woke before she could disappear. Besides the usual traffic of San Francisco, there was something odd. A dark grey armoured van was patrolling the streets the same night, going down alleyways whilst a few men with what looked to be riot gear would routinely step out and search the immediate area before re-entering the van. Overlaying the vans route and Y/N's path from that night, Dick noticed how, at times, Y/N was mere meters away from the search party, at one point there was only a wall between them. The group eventually lost track of Y/N entirely and chose to wait outside her apartment complex until dawn. There was no doubt they were after her. 

Dick began running the license plate through the system when in the corner of his eye he noticed movement from the med bay. Looking at the screen he expected her to disappear almost immediately, he watched as she sat disoriented looking around herself before reaching out for the wheelchair in the corner of her room, just out of her reach. Deciding not to push his luck further, Dick left the room. He could look into the van later.

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End file.
